


Little Boy Blue

by Lilya7



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:31:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilya7/pseuds/Lilya7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four vignettes on Sasuke - objects and people he held dear and the passing of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Toys

I. Toys

 

_Time was when the little toy dog was new_

_And the soldier was passing fair_

 

No one would have expected to find a room like that. Not in such an ancient house. It had been mum’s idea, when, about six years before, he had started growing out of his baby furniture.

White walls had taken the place of colorful wallpaper and Itachi had hung a wooden panel where he could stick posters of his favorite manga. Instead of a traditional futon, mum had picked a soft, comfortable bed, upon which was draped a blue comforter. The simple, elegant closets also had blue panels – and so did the desk and the bookcase.

In fact, all the new furniture was blue – all in the same linear style.

Truth to be told, Sasuke liked it a lot: it looked like a grown-up boy’s room, but still cozy and cheerful. Besides, the most important things hadn’t been changed – so he had thought years before, when he had come into his new room and spotted Rai-chan sitting on the bed, waiting for him.

The white-and-brown stuffed dog was Sasuke’s oldest and dearest toy. He had had it since – well, forever.

When he was little, Rai-chan accompanied him everywhere – he had even managed to sneak it in more than one official picture.

Sasuke smiled to himself as he gathered his kunais, getting ready for another afternoon of extra practice.

Now it wouldn’t do to carry him around like that, yet he was reluctant to get rid of it. The ribbon around its neck wasn’t as red as it used to be and its eyes had lost some shine, but Rai-chan still stood guard on his nightstand.

Since he had joined Konoha Academy, a scroll or a book were more likely to stand by its side, instead of tin nins.

Sasuke finished packing his bag – he would ask Itachi to come and train him, maybe today he wouldn’t be so busy.

Casting one last glance at his room to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, his gaze fell on Rai-chan. For a second, he felt the irrational impulse to grab it and stuff it in his bag.

Instead, he reached out and playfully patted his head – as if it was a real dog.

Sasuke left to look for his brother before heading out to the training ground. He was sure that this time he’d come.

 

  _And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue_

_Kissed them and put them there_

_“Now, don’t you go till I come,” he said,_

_“And don’t you make any noise!”_

_So, toddling off to his trundle-bed_

_He dreamt of pretty toys;_

 


	2. Home

_The little toy dog is covered with dust,_

_But sturdy and stanch he stands;_

_The little toy soldier is covered with rust,_

_And his musket molds in the hands._

 

 

The once well-maintained garden is now a haven for weeds. 

Some plants, some flowers died and were never replaced – frozen in the cold winter air or languished under the scorching sun. Others, the stronger ones, only grew free and wild and now crawl over the pathways and among the tall grass. Some of them even started climbing on the wall of the mansion, quietly aiming to the roof.

Inside, the air tastes like dust.

It’s everywhere – it lays on the wooden floors and grays all those meters of white cloth that cover the furniture.

Sometimes, when a ray of sunshine makes its way through the shutters, it becomes visible, slowly dancing in the still air.

It’s the only thing that moves.

It’s the only thing that inhabits this house, along with silence and shades of darkness.

There’s nothing else – not memories, because there’s no one to remember them.

Not ghosts, not echoes of the past, even if people would say there ought to be some here.

But the bodies were taken away and buried, the floor was soaped and scrubbed until no sign of blood or chalk outlines could be seen anymore.

Maybe some traces still remain, invisibly clinging to the inner fibers of wood – the tragedy now part of the house itself. Still there, but buried deep within.

A strange atmosphere fills every room, but it’s not because of that.

It could be compared to human feelings – to lonely resignation and stubborn waiting wrapped together, like threads in a carpet, to the point it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Between the two of them, the latter is still the strongest, even if the former creeps up a little bit with every passing year.

When it will be just that, the house will be completely abandoned. But until then, it’s waiting – waiting for someone who promised to come back and set everything right, set everything as it once used to be.

But the only thing that came, some years ago, were half a dozen cardboard boxes three strangers brought in and dropped off in one of the old bedrooms.

Years later, they’re still closed, the layers of dust coating them quietly adding up until someday they will perfectly match those covering everything else.

There they are, right where they were first placed – next to a blue nightstand from which a dirty stuffed dog keeps watch over utter emptiness.

On that same nightstand, somebody placed a small frame with the glass cracked.  

 

 

_And they wonder, as waiting the long years through_

_In the dust of that little chair,_

_What has become of our Little Boy Blue_

_Since he kissed them and put them there._

 

 

 


	3. Friends

 

_(…) our Little Boy Blue_

_Kissed them and put them there_

 

We have been asked why we keep on chasing him – why we can’t just give up since he obviously doesn’t want to come back, doesn’t want to change his mind, doesn’t need to be saved.

Maybe there’s too many reasons to count – maybe there’s no one at all other than selfishness.

We know we annoy him.

We know all it matters to him now is his revenge.

Not only his world revolves around it – it begins and ends with it.

And despite his fabled Sharingan, he can’t see beyond that.

He can’t see what he had before, he can’t see what he’s throwing away.

Worst of all for a ninja, he can’t see how many people, how many lives he is putting in danger to reach one single target.

In his arrogance, Sasuke treated us as things, as toys. He expected us to resign ourselves to our fate of being cast aside.

But we’re humans.

We feel.

We love. We care. We resent.

And we won’t allow him to put us on a shelf.

We’ll keep on coming for him.


	4. Dreams

_Little Boy Blue come blow your horn._

_The sheep’s in the meadow,_

_The cow’s in the corn._

_Where’s the little boy that looks after the sheep?_

_Under the haystack,_

_Fast asleep._

_Will you wake him?_

_No, not I_

_For if I do_

_He's sure to cry._

 

Never think of the past – this is your rule and you never break it.

It hurts too much.

Yet sometimes you find yourself wondering if truly you lived some of the things you remember – or if they were a dreams.

Did you ever wake up from Itachi’s Tsukiyomi?

Did you really survive the massacre? Or did you die with the others and you’re only dreaming of being alive?

Sometimes the fires of anger and vengeance lower a bit. Every single time you’re horrified to find yourself empty and cold.

It doesn’t last for long – because you hurry and feed the flames again.

But the cold is still there, until you relearn to pretend it’s not.

Then you cling to your power like a child to a stuffed animal and you curl up nursing the thought you’re getting closer and closer to your revenge.

You don’t feel the bandages covering your eyes or the strings crawling all over your body – and you don’t realize it’s your own dream for revenge that’s tying the knot.

It never crossed your mind that maybe you always had that power – that you’re not gaining anything new.

Maybe it would have been better if you had truly been a little less talented.

But you were the genius of your generation – you just had to take the easy way out.

You think you moved forward by ridding yourself of your emotions – you have just immersed yourself in dreams even further.

You’ll never admit it, but you’re still like a child – always ready to blindly believe lies and promises, proving that it’s what you want to hear.

It never crossed your mind that maybe you’re just being used – that sometimes people make promises they have no intention to keep.

You have no life, Uchiha Sasuke.

You just have dreams you dream.

But someday you’ll have to wake up.

And you’d better hope you will before it’s too late.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The poem "Little Boy Blue" belongs to Eugene Field.


End file.
